


strangers like me

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Animal Attack, F/M, Fainting, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hallucinations, How Do I Tag, Inspired by Tarzan, Inspired by a Movie, Lack of Communication, M/M, Minor Violence, No Plot/Plotless, Personification, Sign Language, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: Tarzan/George of the Jungle Au ; Marc just wanted to obey his father and make him proud, but he soon finds the jungles of Brazil have a lot more to offer than a pleasant resort location.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I randomly wrote this after watching Tarzan last night, so um, enjoy? :p

  


**File://Name: _Project-Brazil_**  
**Open: _Video-Log-1_**  
**Record:**

  


Nimble fingers are adjusting the camera lens cautiously as he prepares to properly log the findings of the day. He's youthful in appearance but has the haggard look of a man much older; dark crescents curving beneath his eyes, skin more reddened than tan, eyes droopy and lacking their usual brightness.

  


The blond settles within the swivel chair within the moderately-sized trailer in the middle of the jungle, having been sent there without much choice from his father. He releases an exasperated sigh, burying his face flushed face within his hands for a considerate moment, holding that position, before resting either elbow upon either side of the swivel chair. 

  


This time he looks directly into the camera lens and offers what he hopes is a kind smile. "Marc-Andre, day one," introduces the blond as he supports his chin on the fist his hand makes. "The jungles of Brazil are hot, burning hot, a lot more than I thought it would be." He pauses to collect a notebook with a collection of the day's events scrawled upon it. "Most of the locals are nice enough, though the Portuguese is a little different." He offers a wary smile, placing the book upon his lap.

  


"There are so many animals here, they're so beautiful. So many different colors, an endless amount of colors, and so many different species." Blue eyes light up at the mention of animals as he sinks further down within the chair in an attempt to achieve a more comfortable position but to no avail. "There are parrots in every color, and macaws too. Oh yeah, there are a lot of amphibians and reptiles, but most of them are poisonous." The blond shivers at the mention, shaking his head as if to erase the thoughts from his memory.

  


"Before exploring the land, we were warned about the types of poisonous animals and how the nearest hospital that specialized in anti-venom was nearly an hour away, though some snakes have venom that can kill you in about twenty-minutes, so the drive would be pointless unless the planes can maneuver through the dense foliage." Marc offers a humorless laugh, chewing absently at the blunt nail of his thumb, eyes averting from the prying eyes of the camera lens to instead stare at the photo he had brought of his family; his brother, his mother, and his father's reflections stare at him with a broad smile as if reassuring that things would certainly go his way.

  


What else could he possibly say that would be considered new information? These were all things that the world knew and could possibly Google in their downtime, so why was the blond meant to record each and every step of the way? Oh yeah, that's right. Because his father was a wealthy business-man with a superiority complex that wished to purchase the abundance of land here in the forests of Brazil to build an extravagant resort that the locals could only wish to afford.

  


Silence continues to drift while the camera sits there recording each and every flicker of emotion that crosses Marc's contemplative countenance. Perhaps he could go to one of the surrounding trailers to chat with a few of the others that had accompanied him, by his father's command, about whatever it was that he was pondering in that moment. Not that they would understand his utter dislike for the plan that his father had, detested being apart of it at all if he's being honest.

  


So instead of allowing the camera to idly stall throughout the length of his silence, the blond manages another forced grin as he stares intently into the camera. He leans forward in his seat, offering a small wave. "Day one over."

  


With that, the camera fizzles to black, leaving the blond finally alone in his thoughts as he begrudgingly drifts toward the makeshift bed near the corner of the trailer. And when he closes his eyes, he's out like a light, instantaneous as the world around him fades to black much like the camera had moments prior. 

  


 

-

 

  


Needless to say when the morning comes, nothing much is expected from this new day either. In fact, it would be more strenuous trekking throughout the mostly unexplored forest of Brazil in an attempt to seek out spots for the construction of the resort. It started early that morning, rising bright and early at seven on the dot to get a head-start before the sun rose to its fullest potential, which wasn't saying much when it's humid to the point where the blond is certain that the beads of sweat clinging to the crooks of his elbows and behind his knees would be a permanent type of nuisance. 

  


There's a machete clutched tightly within the blond's hand as he strolls through the path they had managed to clear the day before, slashing this way and that to make a much newer route. One of his friends, otherwise known as one of his dad's top workers, slides to his side and places an elbow upon his shoulder. When he glances over, he finds a pair of equally as blue eyes staring down at him, a lopsided smirk plastering across his lips.

  


"You don't seem to be enjoying this very much," comments Manuel with a hint of amusement laced in his tone. 

  


Marc's lips poke out into a pout, shaking his head. "It's too hot and I feel like I'm going to melt already and it's not even noon yet," sulks the younger boy as he shrugs the elbow from his shoulder, eyes not daring to leave the area in front of him.

  


"No, no I completely understand. But I mean you don't seem to want to be out here in a general sense." As if he needed to explain himself, muses the blond, as he continues to stroll until one of the men in charge announces that they would be stopping for a much-needed break.

  


Marc allows the heavy book-bag strapped to his back to slide to the ground while he plops down upon a rather large rock nearby. Fingers sift through the bag until he retrieves a still relatively cool water bottle, sipping it at it with a foreign thirst he hadn't experienced since entering the jungle territory. To his side on the grassy ground rests Manuel who watches him with a small smile, eyes wide and teasing, head canting to the side.

  


"Spoiled, aren't you? Always talking about leaving Deutschland but probably couldn't survive in the real world alone." Manuel states with a bellowing laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides and, as offended as Marc feels, he releases the first genuine laugh since he's been in this forsaken place. 

  


"At least the real world has air-conditioning and fully functioning bathrooms," teasingly states the blond as he caps the bottle that is now half-empty, Marc sighing at the fact, knowing he only had another full bottle to last him the long, tiring day.

  


Manuel is silent for a moment, doesn't breathe a word, just looks thoughtful for a moment. "We won't be here forever, so it won't be so bad, not when you have that palace to return to. Then you can take the longest shower in the world and wipe off all the dirt that's going to be encrusted in your skin."

  


Marc, who crinkles his nose in disdain, looks awfully distressed by those words as he slips the bottle back into his book-bag, zipping and securing it tightly. "Bathing in the sink is one of the top reasons why I just want to go home and be done with this.. I don't even know why he thought building that place here, of all places, would be a smart idea. Like people would actually risk going out here likes idiots only to be offed by—by, well, pretty much whatever dangerous species out here gets to them first."

  


"Take a breather will you? Why not go for a little walk to calm yourself down for a bit while we're all resting and make sure to be back in the next ten minutes, alright? Here," the elder German tosses the blond a walkie-talkie and makes sure to offer a pointed look: "If you need anything, you call. Understand?"

  


With only a nod for confirmation, the blond easily clips the walkie to his snugly fit jeans, strolling off toward where a pair low-hanging trees lead. When alone the sounds of the jungle are seemingly amplified in the way that the noises and clicks and hisses are coming from all around you instead of a stray sound here and there.

  


Not that it mattered when traveling in a pack of people who are well equipped with weapons whether it be a machete or even a gun; it's like it was an animal's natural instinct to avoid such things, as if they could quite possibly sense the violence that often accompanied such things. In a way, the blond marvels that, that animals were not as dumb as others painted them out to be. 

  


As a child he had been obsessed with animals and would frequent the zoo, much to his father's chagrin, always the one that usually took him when his mother's schedule was completely booked. One of his favorite animals were tigers, the striped feline's beautifully frightening; the way they stalked around their exhibit, lips pulled back in a snarl, pointy teeth on full display as they eyed the people on the other side of the pane like prey.

  


Or perhaps they were aware of their surroundings, knowing they were secured by reinforced glass, detesting their captor's who sent them to such a horrid place. Of course one could take the animal out of the wild but could never take the wild out of the animal, which is something he had read in a national geographic once when he was younger, the words sticking with him even now.

  


Audible rustling is heard around him when he's a great distance away from the makeshift camp the others had made. The blond ignores it, however, brushing it off as the native monkeys jumping from tree-to-tree versus it being a large predator. There he is, in the heart of the jungle, marveling at the canopy up above where the sun barely manages to peek through to warm him with its heat.

  


There it is again, the rustling, though this time it's too close for comfort. "Thomas?" calls out the blond hesitantly, fear beginning to sink through his bones, eyeing the area it seemed to be coming from. He offers a nervous laugh, "this isn't funny Thomas. Is Manu with you?"

  


There is no reply, however, and the blond begins to panic as he spots a black mass slowly strolling out of its crouched position in the brush. Bright, amber eyes are peering right at him as a low growl ripples through the feline's throat, the midnight cat on the prowl as it slowly circles him, as if trying to pinpoint a weakness before it strikes.

  


"Fuck," hisses the German as he reaches for the walkie-talkie with trembling hands but drops it a beat later when another growl leaves him standing rigid like a moron. "Help! Someone, please!" shrieks the blond as he backs away, slowly, as one of the locals had instructed just in case.

  


But it doesn't seem to be working then, just remembering the machete hooked to his belt, he struggles with it for a moment before slashing it out before him. The panther, seemingly nonplussed by the gleaming weapon, lunges in warning then snarls once more at him. It begins it's circular rotation around him once more and he unconsciously moves along with it counter-clockwise; the only sound being its growling and his shallow breathing as he attempts not to short-circuit.

  


Once more he slashes at the cat, "Stay back, I mean it! Stay back." hisses Marc with an equal ferocity but the cat doesn't care as it lunges forward which sends the blond stumbling backward, the machete slicing his palm before it clatters to the ground a few feet away.

  


Now, vulnerable and defenseless, the blond can only plea with the panther—as if it understands, as if it cares—that his life is not worth it. Now the only noise he can hear is the rapid thrum of his pulse within his eardrums and can literally feel it on every inch of his body. He doesn't notice the rustling coming from around him as the panther inches closer and closer, the blond sliding across the jungle floor, smearing blood as he goes.

  


And somehow, by some will, he manages to find his footing and rises. This apparently garners the panther's attention as it stalks closer and closer, that is—until he hears a peculiar sound, one he's never heard before in his life, and is gathered beneath an arm. It happens, just as the panther pounces to grab at him, his entire body seeming to go rigid once more as he stares blankly at the sight of the snarling cat as it eyes him.

  


And—and, oh, okay.

  


Apparently he's flying or something because suddenly his feet aren't even on the ground and he can see the grass below but it's a great distance away. Feeling nauseous, the blond groans and leans into the figure that had rescued him, skin feeling far too heated and slick to even think about what was happening.

  


For all he knew it was a fever dream because he was meant to be clutched in the jaw of that panther down below and if his vision begins to go black, he isn't conscious enough to realize it, only knowing that he securely wraps around every inch of his savior and revels in the light, airy feel of nothingness.

 

-

 

  


There's no accurate way of dating how much time goes by since the blackout. Time was only relative anyway, something that the blond thought very little of, which is bizarre to think about when coming to consciousness. Not once does he blink or even dare to open his eyes as he clings to the last bit of the pleasantly dazed feeling he was experiencing, though he eventually startles awake when he feels something warm and callous brush across the skin of his arm.

  


Releasing a yelp, the blond immediately crawls backward into who-knows-what. The blond is staring pointedly, timidly, clearly frightened at the other man that stares at him with wide, intrigued eyes. Blink, blink, blink. Marc continues to blink owlishly at the tawny-skinned man who tilts his head this way and that at each and every movement the blond makes and if that scrutinizing gaze didn't make him more than a little uncomfortable, he didn't know what else possibly could.

  


Big and warm brown eyes are staring at him intently, lips twitching at the corners with a small. Raven hair rests upon the top of his head, which he ruffles occasionally, still poised on his knees and staring down at Marc like he's some new toy or—or something that the blond can't quite place right now because—

  


"—What the hell are you—Why are you looking at me like that? Wait, no—No, who are you?" exclaims the blond with wild, bewildered eyes as he searches the latter's imploringly, demanding an answer.

  


And then the really allows his gaze to scan over the person in front of him. On his knees in a thin piece of animal skin that reaches just above his mid-thigh, though it doesn't do much to hide the more intimate parts of his body. At that, the blond flushes, deep and crimson as he attempts to push himself into a sitting position onto to whimper in pain as he glances down at his hand.

  


Seemingly un-phased by the sound, the nameless man, without an inhibitions, brings up a hand to ghost along where his cheeks are still thoroughly flushed. Deciding to distract himself from the pain pulsing through his palm, to which he hisses at again, he attempts to practice the Portuguese he had learned before agreeing on this exploration.

  


"Uh, um—.." Marc trails off as he swats at the fingers tracing circles onto his cheek, garnering a deeper tint of scarlet that reaches down to his collar bones this time. "You speak Portuguese, yes?" There's a heavy accent to his words, he knows, but the raven-haired boy just stares at him with furrowed brows.

  


Nothing is said in response for a long time, just another intense and awkward stare-off, not that the blond minds. There was something intriguing in those dark eyes, speckles of color here and there, not to mention how expressive they were. It was like any and everything he was thinking would show in those eyes and he would understand every little thing there was to know if he needed to. Once more he hisses at the pain in his palm and notices the animal skin wrapped securely around it, glancing up at the nameless man once more.

  


It's then a tawny fingers points to himself, poking himself firmly in the chest, a small smile gracing his lips. "Rafael," introduces the raven who then finally seems to take notice of the blond's ailing hand.

  


Without breathing another word, he nods his head in the direction of the blond, all the while reaching for the hand which the German instinctively yanks away. A moment later, after receiving a rather annoyed look for Rafael, he offers the hand back to which the raven rolls his eyes at. Something about the action makes the blond chuckle, the man echoing a moment later, as he tends to the wound. Slowly but surely he unwraps the animal skin then tosses it halfheartedly to the side and abruptly abandons the massive bundle of furs that would be considered a makeshift bed.

  


Feeling awkward once more, the blond clears his throat, garnering the raven's attention. He glances back curiously as he sifts through a variety of things within a few woven pots until he retrieves more thin pallets of clean animal skin as well as a vivid green plant that he somewhat recognizes by sight alone; faintly recalls seeing it in a class he took once in college. Aloe, maybe?

  


The raven returns and dumps the items onto the wooden floor then proceeds to reach for a sharp—what kind of animal could that even belong to?—tooth randomly resting upon the ground. "Rafael," repeats the Brazilian once more as he stabs at the Aloe leaf until it relents beneath his administrations, freely dabbling in the gel that is produced.

  


"Oh, sorry," apologizes the German as he remains as still as possible, legs outstretched before him, resting his hand palm-up so the latter can better tend to it. "I, well, I'm Marc.. Marc-Andre, but just Marc is fine." Rafael looks like he's about to say something but thinks better of it, though the small smile that plays on his lips is a relief. "Thank you for—for what you did back when that panther was—Just.. Thank you."

  


Rafael hums softly in response as he presses the gel into the still-healing wound, cerulean eyes finally glancing down to assess the damage. He winces visibly, to which the Brazilian halts at, searching his features for any signs of distress. Marc decides against speaking, not wanting to seem weaker than he already does at this point, and instead nods for him to continue. 

  


He's not certain whether or not it's supposed to tingle as it does but he doesn't trust himself to speak when he has a massive knot at the back of his throat. So he finds himself staring at the raven's features once more; there are little to no wrinkles gracing his youthful face, though he does have barely noticeable lines at the corners of his eyes and at his mouth from presumably smiling far too much. Then his eyes fall down to gaze upon plump, crimson-looking lips; they're nice and inviting and he can't seem to tear his gaze away—

  


"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," hisses the blond with a wince once the skins are tied securely around the decent sized gash on his palm, snatching his hand back to cradle it against his chest. 

  


Rafael is chuckling, low and amused, as he sits back until he's seated completely upon the wooden floor. It makes his shoulders quake and his mouth stretches so wide that Marc is certain that it must be uncomfortable. "Pain makes you a man," states the Brazilian as he allows his hands to tug at the pained hand once more, gingerly allowing his fingers to trace delicate circles within his palm, brushing gently over the diagonal gash: "Pain doesn't last forever."

  


Wetting his lips anxiously, the blond finds himself feeling more than a little embarrassed, not used to such intimate touches from the same-sex let alone a woman. Mostly he kept to himself back in the widely-populated city of Munich because he was a busy man—whether it be college classes or doing whatever chore his father deems for him that particular day, week, or even month. That's why time was so relative, he didn't have much of it, so why did it matter?

  


"It hurts, Rafael." Marc hesitantly tests the name out on his tongue and finds it rolls off relatively easily, much to the latter's delight, the raven sitting up straighter at the sound of his name.

  


"Me," casually states the Brazilian as he crosses his legs before him which exposes a little more than Marc feels comfortably seeing at that point. "I take care of you," he proudly hums a moment later as he gracefully swings to his feet once more to dig through another set of woven pots across the room.

  


While the man is distracted Marc absently ponders his pockets only to find that he's missing both his machete and the walkie-talkie he had been given the day prior—had it been a day or more? He wasn't exactly sure but either, when he reaches for the straps of his book-bag, he comes up empty and instead glances around for it only to find it a distance away resting opened upon the wooden floor.

  


"Hey!" Marc huffs in annoyance as he wobbles to his feet, obviously having been out longer than he desired, but what could he do about it? He takes a moment to gather his bearings, wavering from foot to foot, before crossing the distance to snatch up his book-bag with his good hand. "You looked through my stuff, Rafael? C'mon, that's not nice at all. That's rude," scolds the blond as he drags the bag behind him to return back to the castle of furs; he designated it his 'safe spot.'

  


Rafael scoffs, a sound that the blond rolls his eyes at, before he returns with a few herbs that are completely foreign to him. Tawny hands offer up the crushed up herbs, transferring them into pale palms, urging him to swallow them down. "I tried to help," corrects the raven in an equally as scolding voice: "You were sleeping for days. Mother said you were okay, I didn't panic."

  


Marc eyes the herbs within his palm wearily even if he trusts the latter somewhat; at least to a point where he knows the raven isn't going to spontaneously murder him for kicks. "Where is she?" curiously asks the blond as he reluctantly tilts his head back, sliding the herbs from his palm and into his awaiting mouth. Immediately his face scrunches up, nose crinkling in disdain, as he somehow managed to swallow the finely cut medicinal herb.

  


"She's hunting," states the Brazilian matter-of-factually as he relaxes upon the floor once more. "She said we needed extra food with you here, she left earlier this morning." informs the raven as he eyes the blond curiously. "Where is _your_ mother?" It's asked in an almost taunting manner, to which the blond quirks a brow at.

  


"What do you mean 'where's my mother?'" Dark brows shoot up to their hairline at the tone of the blond's voice and he immediately offers an apologetic smile in response. "No, sorry, I'm just freaking out a little still." He absently searches throughout his book-bag for anything he could possibly use to contact those back at the base camp, taking things that weren't helpful out and setting them down beside him. "She's at home, back in Germany, it's just me and some co-workers here scouting."

  


Dark furrows furrow tightly then as he stares at the blond, a quizzical expression plastering across his face. "Germany..?" questions the man, head canting to the side.

  


It's not adorable, decides the blond, no matter how much it looks like it. Instead he occupies himself with retrieving one of the bottles of water and immediately downs it in a few gulps. Afterwards, however, he looks relatively guilty and reaches for the half-full one, uncaps it, and offers it to the still perplexed Brazilian who warily accepts it. Marc watches with a snort as he sniffs at it experimentally before bringing it to his lips and taking a few gulps, sighing contently at the taste.

  


"Where is Germany?" ponders the Brazilian aloud as he toys with some of the items that Marc has recovered from the book-bag, waving the blond's iPod blindly around, tugging at the thin cords of his earphones attached to it. "What _is_ Germany?" rephrases the raven a moment later, gazing at the blond for guidance, the boy looking entirely lost.

  


"Oh," states the blond as he scratches at his cheek bashfully. "I thought you were—I thought you were kidding, I guess, I didn't know you were serious." Rafael blinks, the subject still not clarified. "Sorry, sorry. Just let me look for a map or something, I might have one somewhere in here. Okay?"

  


Rafael only nods in response, not breathing another word, as he sits comfortably upon the floor gazing over the German's shoulder as he searches for the map he spoke of. He's so close, in fact, that the blond can feel the blow of air against the side of his face and neck as he digs hopelessly through the bag for the tiny map of the world that always seemed to be in one of the pouches in his book-bag. He ignores the warm breath that tickles the fine hairs of his neck, how it makes him shiver, and it makes it worse that the brunet had no idea what kind of affect he was having on him.

  


So he's relieved, even exhales in a sigh, when he finally comes across the crumpled and wrinkly map. Rapidly, as if he's running out of time and that an invisible clock is ticking, he unravels the map and attempts to smooth it out along the wooden floor to the best of his ability. Some of the names of the countries are faded and are barely visible but he knows the continents well-enough to explain at least some of the locations etched onto the paper.

  


"Ah, see. This area right here," he points in emphasis and Rafael leans down to survey it with his own eyes, fingers curiously brushing along the paper as he does so. Marc circles the area with the pads of his fingers, and Rafael traces the circle himself a moment later: "This is Germany, my country, where I'm from."

  


"Where am I from?" Rafael inquires, glancing at Marc, not seeming to mind that their faces are merely inches away from each other. It's an innocent question, one that shouldn't make his heart ache as much as it does in that moment, but the clenching of his heart doesn't relent and instead he knows that he has to formulate an answer. 

  


Azure eyes searched the page of South America until he comes across the severely faded word that reads 'Brazil.' He points at the name then circles the location once more, Rafael not tracing it this time himself, just staring at it with furrowed brows. "Here. This is Brazil, this is where we are right now."

  


Minutes go by and they're filled with a comfortable silence—or as comfortable as it gets for two strangers trying to become accustomed to each other can be. Despite the silence, the blond can see the mental gears of the Brazilian shifting within his mind, can tell that he's deep in thought as he ponders the map. Thick fingers trace from Brazil and then finally to Germany and back, ivory teeth gnawing intently at his plump bottom lip, then glancing to Marc with furrowed brows.

  


"You are far from home, no?" inquires the Brazilian with a small frown as he traces the area once more, nudging the blond with a shoulder, outlining the distance for emphasis.

  


"My dad wanted me to come here because of this dumb idea he had to build something out here in the jungle," explains the blond before he can even process the information he's allotting. "It probably won't even happen anyway, it's dangerous out here and he'd be crazy to even think about building." He adds a second later as if attempting to reassure the latter.

  


Rafael purses his lips firmly together, nodding slowly in understanding, though his eyes are still searching the clear skies of Marc's eyes. "He can't build here," states the brunet a considerate moment later, eyes wide and pleading. "My family is here, he can't be here." 

  


"I—yeah, I realize that now. I'll talk to him about it when I get back to camp," assures the blond with a sincere smile though he isn't certain whether or not he should be making promises he can't keep. But he feels the need to reassure this raven-haired boy who stares at him like a kicked puppy, lips pouting and eyes wide yet holding a sense of ferocity to them that makes the blond gulps deeply. "I—I have to go back to tell the others, they're probably worried about me, I have to go."

  


When he makes to stand up, the raven yanks him back down, setting him with a look. "Too weak now," advises the Brazilian with a stern look, one similar to the fierce look the panther offered before pouncing. "Tomorrow after you eat, fresh start."

  


"I have to go now, the guys are probably out there right now looking for me and I can't—They can't keep looking for me when there's panthers and those things out there." defends the blond as he makes to stand up once more, the only difference is that the Brazilian lets him this time, staring up at him with a yearning in his eyes that the blond attempts to ignore.

  


However, when he mobilizes in the direction of what seemed like an opening out of this place, a large mass frightens him to where he can't move. There, abruptly swinging in from the opening, is the broad form of a gorilla that seems as bewildered as he feels. From a distance, the creature may have been beautiful—majestic, even—but having it a few feet away and hearing it make that roaring sound was enough to leave him frozen and glancing between it and Rafael, who raises his hands in defense, but not toward the gorilla, toward him.

  


" _This_ is _mother_ ," Rafael explains, a little too excited for the situation at hand. 

  


But when he reaches out toward Marc, to presumably introduce the two, the blond is feeling that familiar lightheaded feeling that he felt those nights prior. Everything is light and airy and he feels like he's floating through the sky once more as he struggles to keep his lids open, swaying side to side in the spot he's rooted in, before finally tilting backwards to free-fall toward the floor.

  


A pair of sturdy arms manage to capture him just before he falls, however, cradling him bridal-style as he strolls toward the mess of furs once more. The gorilla makes an inquisitive hooting sound toward Rafael, who snickers his amusement as he barks a response back, carefully depositing the unconscious form of the German onto the furs once more.

  


  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I start so many stories and then get so overwhelmed, like, why do I do this to myself ? D:

  


This time, when he awakens, it's to the sight of one raven-haired boy in particular leaning over him. Not that it's the first time or anything, at least he can only assume, because he was certain he felt a pair of eyes keen on him when he woke up the other day but hadn't opened his eyes because he was more than a little frozen in sheer terror by the thought of being quite possibly captured by some giant, hulking gorilla that saw him as a potential meal or—or—

  


Blinking away, the blond shoots forward, knocking heads with the Brazilian who groans in pain as he shifts backward onto his haunches to rub absently at his reddening forehead. He relaxes visibly upon the sight of Rafael, however, shoulders releasing it's tight, rigidness and a small, relieved smile spreading across his lips. The raven is looking slightly annoyed once more as he stares at the blond, though the twitching of his lips shows that he's obviously not that bothered.

  


"It's just you," sighs the blond as he pulls his knees up to his chest then wraps his arms securely around them. "I must've been dreaming, I thought I saw a-a-a—" No audible words, only squeaks, echo from his lips as he weakly lifts an arm and points, finger trembling visibly, at the sight of the silver-back emerging from one of the adjoining rooms.

  


Sensing the latter's fear, Rafael reaches out to place a warm and reassuring hand on Marc's shoulder, offering a broad grin in response. "I was watching you," as if it wasn't obvious before: "to make sure you were breathing and you looked—.." He shakes his head, seemingly unable to find the right word, and instead nods his head in the direction of the gorilla. "This is my mother."

  


Marc blinks owlishly, brain struggling to comprehend the information being spoken to him. It was like he was speaking an entirely different language other than Portuguese, one that made less sense. Over and over again he allows himself to ponder those four words and attempts to come up with a reasonable explanation about how that could even be biologically possible but then decides that perhaps a species of monkey adopting a human child wasn't exactly unheard of. Except it was, and this didn't make any sense no matter how he tried to piece the puzzle together.

  


He gulps deeply, searching Rafael's dark eyes, looking for some sign that he was fibbing but came up with nothing but sheer sincerity. Then he watches the movements of the Brazilian, notices the intricate motions of his hands, head nodding as he stares over the distance at the gorilla. What strikes him as peculiar, and honestly sort of astonishing, is that the silver-back is seeming to sign back whatever it was that the raven was saying.

  


The way his mouth is moving but no words come out, fingers and hands moving this way and that, even motioning toward him numerous times. It goes on like that for a few more seconds, Marc wide-eyed and flabbergasted, mouth agape and pulse thudding within his eardrums, all the while the gorilla keeps a steady eye on him as if _he_ were the dangerous creature within the wooden enclosure.

  


Suddenly the Brazilian is snickering as he signs something back then turns to Marc, "She says she doesn't trust you and that you look, and smell, like you don't belong." informs the raven as if it's the most blatant thing.

  


Marc awkwardly rubs at his upper arm as he attempts to smile at the gorilla, uncomfortable and hesitant about the whole situation, believing that he was dreaming of handsome jungle boys and equally as beautiful gorillas. Unconsciously he shies closer toward the considerably shorter boy, as if he were a human shield, hiding halfway behind his back while the other half remains exposed to cautiously keep an eye on the gorilla.

  


"T-tell her I'm with you and that I don't—I don't mean any harm, alright, I'm with you and I won't do anything to hurt her." whispers Marc, lips pressed against Rafael's ear, like it was some great secret that he were the lesser being of the trio inside the enclosure. 

  


It doesn't go unnoticed by Marc how the Brazilian shivers at the feel of his breath against his ear nor the way that he instinctively moves closer to the blond, a hand gripping snugly at his upper arm, offering it a warm squeeze. Then the gorilla signs something else, presumably a question if the way it tilts its head is anything to go by. Rafael only nods in response, slinging an arm around Marc's shoulders, bringing him into a tight embrace and winking playfully.

  


It's then the gorilla makes a purring noise, or one that resembles it, that has the blond grimacing until Rafael begins to bubble with laughter. And then he comes to the realization that the purring was more or less the gorilla's vocalization of laughter, the way it expressed amusement or something like that, which only puzzles the German as he narrows his gaze at the raven-haired boy.

  


"What? What did she say?" nervously questions the blond as he glances the gorilla up and down once more, noticing as she bounds closer and closer until she's seated just in front of them. 

  


"I—" for once the Brazilian splutters with a response and receives another purr from the gorilla resting upon the floor, to which he offers something—that resembles a human version of a growl—toward the massive animal. "I told her," he signs back to the gorilla to let her be aware of the conversation: "that you were my—my mate." 

  


Marc isn't certain whether or not he's more startled by the omission or how the gorilla bangs it's open palms against the ground, seemingly amused by the statement, mouth forming an 'o' and eyes alight with—with something. It reaches out a hand, palm-up, toward the blond and Rafael urges him to take the hand in a similar position.

  


Rafael even grabs his hand to encourage it, "Palm down." he breathes quietly and the blond obliges because he's afraid of the idea of offending the beast that could possibly murder him in less than a second's notice. "Like that, yeah." Then his hands release Marc's, and the blond misses the warmth, but he won't admit that aloud.

  


"What does this mean?" breathlessly questions the blond as he takes a step forward toward the gorilla that eyes him with an expression he still can't place; it's like she's judging him, trying to figure out what kind of person he is just by a touch, and it's unnerving, to say the least. "Why is she looking at me like that, Rafa?"

  


When he shifts his head once more to stare at the Brazilian, he finds he still hasn't moved an inch and is instead smiling at him in that broad, goofy way that Marc finds himself getting fond of. Then, for the first time since his arrival, those dark—pleasantly brown—eyes are flickering down to his mouth. He gulps deeply then, eyes fluttering, as he stares down at the raven who licks his lips and begins to lean forward.

  


Marc, who's lids are fluttering to a content close, are expecting a pair of warm lips to capture his but instead it's all interrupted by a hooting gorilla. He blinks a few times to gather his bearings, awkwardly clearing his throat, more amused purring emitting from the gorilla as the seconds tick by. He glances at Rafael, who's tawny cheeks are a deep crimson color, the man scratching at the back of his neck while the other hand motions between the gorilla and Marc.

  


"It's respect," easily replies the Brazilian, who's voice is an octave lower, eyes raking up and down Marc's form as if he's some type of delicacy. "Gorillas do it to show respect and it's how you get accepted to the troop." rapidly explains the man as he ignores the softer hoots from the gorilla, rolling his eyes, and instead nodding his head in the direction of food in an old-looking skillet. "Hungry, lost boy?"

  


All the while the gorilla watches the raven with a sense of pride lurking within the depth of her wise eyes then she averts her gaze to stare at Marc with a prying gaze. She hobbles across the floor effortlessly and manages to capture Rafael's attention, signing something else that Marc doesn't understand, the Brazilian groaning outwardly as he slides the eggs from the beat-up skillet and into a plate that consisted of woven leaves.

  


"What's she saying?" curiously asks Marc when he realizes he's not rooted to the spot anymore and strolls toward where a stump is located nearby a less than sturdy looking old table where the eggs rest.

  


"I don't want to say," admits the raven as he plops down onto the other stump located within the hut. But still the gorilla persists until he's burying his face in his hands, holding the position a moment, before making it a point to stare diligently at the eggs within the leaves. "She said she could give us space if we wanted to—.." He sighs and signs to the gorilla who tugs loosely at the cloth around his waist: " _I'm telling him_ ," insists the Brazilian and he turns to inadvertently lock eyes with Marc. "She said she would leave if we want to mate."

  


Throughout that awkward explanation, the blond had managed to gather up a decent amount of the egg and pluck it into his mouth, but it's immediately coughed out when the spluttered words are finally spoken. The gorilla, seeming to be aware of his conditions, leans one powerful fist into the wood while the other gently—with the softness that only a gorilla can muster—pats at his back until he's reduced to glassy eyes and struggling to gasp in a breath.

  


Rafael rests an elbow on the corner of the old table, making it lean in favor of his direction, and places his chin within his open palm. The whole time he watches Marc, gauging his reaction the information, head canting curiously to the side. "It's just.. You're the first person I met outside of the Yonomami people." Bashfully states Rafinha, who flushes a darker shade, smiling a little sadly. "I learned from them, how to talk, how to cook. Mother taught me how to survive," he offers a reserved smile to the gorilla who echoes the sentiment.

  


"You never thought of going outside of the jungle?" cautiously asks the German as he munches happily on the eggs, stomach growling, appeased, at being fed since his initial capture. "There's so much out there to see, so much, you wouldn't believe it."

  


Rafael looks melancholy, eyes shifting downcast then toward the gorilla, shoulders hunching inwardly and a sigh escaping his lips. "This is home." he states happily with a watery smile, "where I belong and I won't leave, I can't leave. I have family." 

  


Taking a moment to chew on the eggs still sitting within his mouth, the blond nods slowly, offering a smile through the mouthful at both the gorilla and Rafael. "No, no I understand. That's how I felt about leaving Germany at first. My mom, my dad, my brother.." While he speaks, Rafael occupies himself with signing the words to the gorilla who tugs at the cloth at his hip once more. "But then I came here, first time I ever left Europe, and I don't regret it." And he genuinely means it. "I've seen so many things I wouldn't have ever seen back home so I'm happy I came, even if it meant almost getting eaten by a panther."

  


Rafael laughs at that part, the gorilla barking in response, standing up on its legs and growling in an attempt to intimidate. The blond, who was comfortable until that, startles and reaches for Rafael across the table instinctively. "She says makes yourself bigger than the panther, scare it." 

  


"I'm not the scariest looking man around," insists the blond as he releases Rafael to motion vigorously toward himself. "No one could ever be scared of me, it's the truth."

  


"Fake it?" suggests the Brazilian as he puffs his own chest out and narrows his gaze then abruptly darts his hands out like they're claws, making a low growling noise. "Pretend to be brave," flippantly remarks the raven as he settles back into his seat on the stump, nibbling at his bottom lip. "You don't scare me though, will never scare me. You're too—too..." He huffs, annoyed, once more but this time turns to the gorilla watching the exchange in scrutiny to sign something; and she easily signs back. "Too handsome to be scary, your face is too handsome."

  


Before Marc can reply, even though the blond certainly doesn't have one even lined up, the sound of hooting and hollering from more gorillas sounds beneath the wooden hut hidden within the trees. Almost immediately the female gorilla is rising to her feet and going toward the opening she emerged from and begins to steadily climb down the tree with assistance from various surrounding vines until her recognizable tone is heard down below with the rest of the troop.

  


"You're new, the troop is curious." Rafael informs when he snorts at the expression the blond wears, nodding his head in the direction of the back of the hut where another convenient opening is located. "Probably best they adjust to your scent before they meet you since outsiders aren't welcomed." And somehow he manages to look and sound so charming despite the words he had just spoken.

  


Marc still can't speak, tongue feeling too large for his mouth at the moment, and instead allows the Brazilian to gently grab onto his hand and tow him toward the exit. There are a variety of winding vines immediately outside of it and tawny hands grab onto one like it's nothing, swinging it this way and that, before gripping tightly onto the thick foliage. He nods his head in the direction of one of the others, grabbing onto one and pulling it toward himself then thrusting it to the blond, offering a playful wink.

  


Somehow his type of charming is effortless, so much so that the German isn't certain if he's aware of it or not. He falters for a moment in grabbing onto the thick vine, staring at the Brazilian wearily, far too fearful to be swinging around the jungle like the latter. Noticing his demeanor, Rafael able to read him like an open book, a tawny hand darts out to wrap securely around Marc's form. Just like before, his fingers clench into the bare skin of Rafael's chest, the Brazilian hissing at the crescent-shaped nails that were bound to leave marks in his skin after.

  


"Scared or want to be close to me like mates?" Rafael ponders aloud, more to himself than anything, as he smugly grins up at the blond despite the wince as the nails loosen within his skin.

  


"I really don't li—" The words catch in his throat, however, as he the Brazilian abruptly takes a step away from the wooden platform to send the duo soaring through the air. 

  


This time he can enjoy it thoroughly; the way the wind ruffles his shortly-cropped locks, whipping him in the face, how he can feel himself closing his eyes to revel in the free-falling feeling. Like flying, he had thought before, flying through the air with no definite safety net to catch him if something went terribly wrong. Still, he doesn't allow himself to think about that, instead wraps his legs around Rafael's waist in a vice-grip to prevent such things from happening. 

  


Seemingly pleased with the reaction, the raven winds the vine around a tree and the two are circling it to a point where Marc swears he's experiencing vertigo. The duo keeps going like that for a while, dark eyes alight with adrenaline as they stare down into azures, breathless laughter erupting from the Brazilian until finally his bare feet crumple against the leaf covered ground of the jungle. He just eyes Marc smugly for a moment, the blond still wrapped tightly around his body, waiting for him to open his lids to take in their surroundings.

  


Slowly the blond blinks, realization dawning that they're now safely on the ground, awkwardly laughing to himself as he detaches and puts a decent amount of space between them. "Sorry, I was just—"

  


"—Scared?" offers the Brazilian as he leans against the thick trunk of the tree, quirking a brow and prompting a response. 

  


Dizzy from the constant spinning, the blond can't even begin to argue the point, instead nodding and reaching his hands out for nothing in particular to steady himself. "You ever get used to that or is it always like this?"

  


Contemplating the question for a moment, Rafael taps a finger upon his chin, then proceeds to shrug halfheartedly. "Done it since I was young, haven't been dizzy since. It feels good, fun, free." He flushes deeply then begins strolling toward nowhere in particular, "I like it." 

  


"I do, too, it's just—The dizzy feeling kinda ruins the high." Marc attempts to explain, the Brazilian humming contently, as he steers the German in the direction of where the sound of running water is rising more and more in volume. 

  


"You need to wash up," offhandedly regards the Brazilian as he leads them in the direction of a massive waterfall that drops off into a large mouth of water.

  


And the blond blanches at the sight, eyes wide and astounded. All he sees at first is the grassy, mossy areas surrounding either side of the massive view which is centered around the large body of flowing water that runs off the side of the cliff. The roar of the water is boisterous, to an extent where he has to cover his ears to shield his eardrums from such a sound, but when he glances at Rafael he finds the Brazilian staring at it in awe as if seeing it for the first time himself. 

  


The water itself is clear, not even an ounce murky, sort of like his eyes—like an exact reflection, if you would ask Rafael, but he keeps the comment to himself just barely. There are fish, beautiful with multi-colored scales, swimming back and forth through the current of the water; a sight that brings a wave of tranquility over the German, who stands there and ponders what sight could possibly ever rival this one. 

  


Rafael offers a chuckle as he jogs toward the edge of the body of water, ridding himself of the skins wrapped securely around his waist, not ashamed or abashed in the slightest as he suddenly dives into the crystal clear looking water. The splash is loud, droplets off water reaching far to stick to his flushed and heated skin, the soaking wet boy emerging in the water to stare impatiently at him. 

  


"It feels good, I promise." Coos the Brazilian who sinks further down into the water until it reaches just beneath his eyes, lids narrowed slightly and brown hues devious.

  


Without much reason not to, pausing to inconspicuously smell his armpits—to which his nose admittedly crinkles at—he begins to strip. Those eyes are still on him as he hooks his thumbs behind the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up and over his head, before throwing it halfheartedly onto the slick looking stones leading up to the falls. Rafael's eyes are watching him, like a shark, scrutinizing his every movement as he kicks off his boots and slowly, hesitantly, unfastens his jeans and tugs them down the length of his milky thighs.

  


Last but not least were the briefs that he adorned, and he was feeling a little self-conscious if the look upon Rafael's face was anything to go by. His gaze flickers from across Marc's face, down to his lips, then to the smoothness of his chest, to finally rest upon the half-hard bulge resting within the dark colored briefs that would soon be torn away from his skin.

  


This time Rafael's face emerges from the water, arms and legs kicking to stay afloat. "I won't look," promises the Brazilian as he reluctantly, eyes rolling as he does so, shifts within the water to swim further, deeper, into the cool water and nearer toward the waterfall itself.

  


True to his word, Rafael never once glances back, and Marc is certainly relieved by that if his half-hard cock is anything to go by. Azures struggle not to gaze after that perfectly round ass that jiggles each time the latter kicks his legs to propel himself further, faster, through the water nor how the muscles in his back flex at each and every movement. Marc is convinced that this is what Hell is like, complete and utter torture, because he desires nothing more than to have his hands on that soft like velvet looking body.

  


Finally and without hassle, the boxers are peeled away from his skin, cock springing to life and bobbing against his thigh as he makes his cautious way down the stones to slip into the water without much echoing sound. But still, somehow the Brazilian is aware of his entrance into the water, the raven haired boy finally glanced back to gaze at him from near the waterfall; his hair is a dark sheen, gleaming beneath the gentle light peering in from above the canopy, painting the man in an angelic light. 

  


"I want to show you something," shouts the boy from the distance between them, anxiously waving the blond to come nearer to him.

  


Roaming freely through the jungle bare and without any concerns from the outside world leaves the blond feeling liberated, the only other possible way to wade through water this clear with nothing on would be to subject himself to prying eyes at a nude beach. He mentally cringes at the thought, those types of beaches full of elderly people who don't care what the youngsters see, allowing it all to hang out for their pwn personal pleasure.

  


The thought seems to propel him faster through the water, eager to rid himself of the thoughts lurking about within his mind. Rafael has droplets of water clinging to his long lashes when Marc approaches him, the raven grinning brightly as he takes hold of the blond's pale hand, tugging him beneath the heavy pounding of the waterfall toward the interior of a hidden cave. It's slick when he climbs up after the Brazilian, having to take his time unlike the experienced jungle boy, who's already perched comfortably upon a smooth rock and motioning toward another large, smooth stone beside him.

  


Not much can be seen through the spray, everything seeming to be in a permanent stage of tunnel vision, as he attempts to make out the shapes of the outer world. His shoulders hunch slightly at the lack of views but he's soon resurrected by the feeling of an impossibly warm hand reaching out to hold his, the latter quiet and watching Marc's reaction, wondering what could possibly be going through his mind.

  


"Do you like it?" tentatively queries the Brazilian, thumb brushing along the smooth skin of Marc's hand, eyes wide and hopeful. "I found it when I was little, when the troop didn't accept me at first, and mother said I had to hide." explains the man, as if the explanation would suddenly pull the wool from over the blond's impossibly blue eyes. "I think a lot here, it's nice and quiet, I don't think anyone knows it's here."

  


Dumbfounded and searching for a proper response to thoroughly describe just what it was he thought of the place, Marc can only nod at first, eyes sweeping over the area of smooth limestone. "It's absolutely beautiful," awes the blond as he curls his fingers inward until the pads of his digits are ghosting along the latter's knuckles: "We don't have places like this in Deutschland, nothing ever like this. I just don't know what to say or how to put it into words."

  


"Sometimes you don't need words," sheepishly remarks the Brazilian and he allows his voice to trail off into nothing less than a whisper as he follows every direction Marc's eyes lead, like he was taking in the sight for the first time himself.

  


Warmth, and not just from Rafael's body, encases the blond in a cozy embrace. A balmy type of warm that he feels internally and not just externally, a type he hasn't felt in what feels like ages, at least not so soon and all at once; it comes with the easiness of falling asleep, one moment you're awake, and the next you're succumbing with little effort to do so. It leaves a tingling sensation on every inch of his skin and the proof is in the way tiny bumps raise on the surface of his arms and even down the length of his milky thighs and legs.

  


Like the universe had finally aligned, something cliche like that, that only Marc could think to come up with. He wonders, absently, if this is what it feels like when you meet your soulmate—the feeling that you're safe and accounted for and that nothing could go wrong. That the feeling and constricting of his chest was just a testament to the feelings that he could feel blossoming because being beside the man with easy, effortless, and he felt at peace with himself for the first time.

  


Rafael is still staring at him when he glances to the side, seemingly a little helpless and lost, with wide eyes searching his for an explanation of what to do—and perhaps _how_ to do it. So Marc initiates, slow and certain, giving the latter ample time to back out if he so chose to, to press a simple, chaste kiss to those reddened and inviting lips. It's like time freezes and all he can see, feel, smell, and touch is Rafael; the way the Brazilian hesitates before applying more pressure into the kiss, tender and certain in his movements while his tawny hand moves from within Marc's clutches to travel up the length of his goose-pimpled flesh to hold snug to his bicep.

  


All too soon it's over, Rafael the first to withdraw, breathing heavily and panting against the blond's kiss-bruised lips. "Can't breathe," breathlessly laughs the Brazilian, head tilting back, laughing into the sky above with euphoria. 

  


A beat passes before Marc, too, laughs loud and happy into the air; the sounds echo throughout the small, hidden cave and reverberates back into their eardrums. And the blond thinks, for the slightest moment, that he could stay there forever in that spot as long as he had the intriguing jungle boy there to help him navigate the vastness of the jungle.

  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured I would at least post what I have so far ? :p


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HI THIS IS LATER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE BUT HERE IT IS 
> 
> (( i shall reply to comments asap, i promise xx ))

  


  
  


There was no accurate way to measure how long the newfound duo had spent behind the powerful wall of rapidly falling water. It could have very well been only two hours or so, not that the blond had been keen on counting the seconds, though he can only assume it had been quite sometime since the sun in the sky seemed to be dimming dramatically in brightness as time continues to dwindle into the later hours of the day.

  


Part of him desired to finally leave the tranquility of the falls in search of his abandoned co-workers while the other, less logical side wished to remain just where he was. It was frightening how he seemed to prefer the company of a total stranger versus the tiny clan of men he had arrived to the country with, but he figures that maybe it has something to do with the jungle; maybe a little bit of fever?

  


Either way, when he rouses upon a massive amount of furs covered in a thin sheen of sticky sweat, he can't seem to fathom just what seduced him so thoroughly about the mystery boy. Slowly, Marc blinks, groggily groaning and stretching as he shifts into a more comfortable position on his back. When he does this, however, his vision clears and he's met with Rafael smiling fondly down at him. 

  


Realization struck that he had felt something moving along his scalp and connects the dots. If the way that Rafael's hands are awkwardly stalled in the air just above his head, he can only assume that the tickling sensation on his head had been those tawny fingers carding through his locks. He yawns into his palm, eyes crinkling at the corners, smiling up at the latter a moment later. 

  


"What are you doing?" drowsily rasps the German as he draws his knees up, feet firmly planted on the ground, his hands resting upon his clothed abdomen.

  


Rafael is quiet for a moment, hesitant even, as he reverts back to his previous administrations. This time his touch is soft, ginger, as he prods at his scalp and even massages the skin beneath his fingers. "Checking you for lice."

  


"Oh," utters Marc, stunned by the revelation, but he doesn't mind it in the least. "Yeah, no. That's—That's okay, I guess." 

  


Despite the reassurance Rafael quickly retracts his fingers and instead folds them within his lap, looking a little bashful in his wake, cheeks flushing darkly. "Is that not what you do?"

  


There's an innocence to his tone, one foreign for a man his age, and it sounds almost like he would probably be more than a little dejected if Marc said otherwise. Regular people, one's that didn't cohabitate with animals, didn't groom each other and pluck at bugs in each other's scalp. But the German, who feels the need to preserve such naivety, refuses to ruin what the latter thought was ordinary. Because this was his reality regardless of the situation and it was what he grew up with.

  


Who was he to disturb the world that Rafael had built for himself, tearing away at the framework, then viciously scrapping every fiber of that being. So no, decides the German, he would play along even if it were a tad peculiar in his own opinion—this was all a little strange, new, but not unpleasant in any way, shape, or form and he was honestly delighted the raven chose to share this foreign way of living with him. 

  


Rafael is doing that thing—the thing that Marc had picked up as a nervous tick—where he sinks ivory teeth into his lower lip and gnaws thoughtfully, brows furrowing and creasing his forehead, forefinger and thumb tapping anxiously together. When he catches Marc's watchful gaze, however, he offers a feigned smile and shifts from his position in an attempt to climb to his feet.

  


But to no avail, however, as Marc instinctively reaches out to latch onto his arm to keep him poised in his spot. Rafael, still skittish, glances at the pale hand wrapped around his elbow then to his face and back. "Look, it's okay. I don't mind." Marc offers a breathless laugh, more than a little embarrassed, as he releases the latter's elbow and holds his hands up showing he meant no harm.

  


Softening from his tense posture, the raven nods slowly, settling back down onto the wooden floor with either leg on either side of Marc's body once more. It feels nice, muses the blond, to have the warmth return to encase his body and finds himself humming when fingers are also reverting back to his scalp. "You—.. You're sure?"

  


Baby blues glance up to meet Rafael's sheepish gaze, can see the look lingering within his dark eyes, then flushes deeply. "I am, honest." He pauses, thinks against what he's about to do, but does it anyway. He wriggles against the floor and slides up closer to Rafael's form, placing his head against one of his tanned thighs, the raven stilling and licking his lips. "It feels really, really good and I sort of don't want you to stop."

  


"Y-yeah?" Rafael wets his lips once more, thigh shifting beneath the weight of Marc's head, but otherwise not complaining. "Then I won't.. Not until you want me to."

  


Seeing the courageous and confident jungle boy blatantly flustered is one of the things that the blond hadn't known he needed up until that very moment. How he awkwardly clears his throat and refuses to meet his gaze, the way his thigh bobs up and down erratically, fingers having a slight tremble as they continue to sift through his scalp in search of mites or whatever tiny insects lurked within the jungle at night. 

  


Soon his lids are feeling heavy once more, even if he had only awakened moments prior. It was just so relaxing, how those fingers move against his scalp and eventually travel down his neck toward the material at the front of his shirt, and he doesn't seem to notice this change of route. Unconsciously his head lolls to the side, body slackening and going lax, breath fanning toward the tiny hairs that climb up the muscle of Rafael's thigh and toward the thin animal skin he adorns.

  


Then he hears a sharp gasp, the blond immediately startling, jolting up into a sitting position and twisting onto his side to gaze at the Brazilian. "Fuck, you scared me." He places a hand over his heart, regaining his breath, as he surveys the latter's expression. "Did I do something or what?" Radio silence. "Why are you staring at me like that, Raf?"

  


Fluid, like a feline, the Brazilian moves into action as he crawls the short distance between them to easily pin the German down without much fuss nor fight. Seemingly pleased, grinning like the cat that successfully captured the canary, he leans down to connect their lips into a kiss. This one, unlike the one from the day before, is fueled by unadulterated lust that Marc succumbs to easily; he can't resist, not when Rafael is making that possessive growling at the back of his throat, hands grappling at his own to pin them above his head on the wood.

  


Marc shifts beneath the weight of the raven and willingly spreads his thighs wide enough for Rafael to neatly fall between. Being the more experienced of the two, the blond proceeds to grab at the feathery hairs at the nape of Rafael's neck, tugging on them lightly then pressing against the curve of his head to deepen the kiss. He tilts his head to the side, exhaling deeply through his nose, as he deepens the kiss and, lacking finesse, rolls his tongue into Rafael's eager mouth.

  


And that's when he feels it, the hardness of the latter's cock pressing against the lower half of his abdomen, knows that the only thing separating them is a pair of jeans and a useless piece of fabric that could easily be discarded in a matter of seconds. His fingers are itching to remove every inch of offending cloth from his body because it wasn't fair—truly, it wasn't—that he could feel every inch of heated and perspired skin of Rafael's form but the latter couldn't feel him skin-to-skin.

  


Then, far too soon for Marc's liking, the raven is withdrawing reluctantly, but eventually leans forward to place more tender kisses to his lips a moment later. Seeming content with the pecks, he falls back against his haunches, leaning back on one palm while the other hand absently ghosts along his bottom lip where a dot of blood coats the pad of his finger.

  


"I," Marc is fumbling for words, breathless and hard, as he stares at Rafael continuously dabbing at his lower lip and peering at him from behind long lashes. "Fuck, you kissed me—" The raven's face falls abruptly and the blond mentally curses himself for being kissed literally stupid: "No, I liked it, a lot. A lot, a lot. I just—.. Why?"

  


Shrugging nonchalantly and snorting at the blood pooling on his finger, Rafael stares at the pad of his forefinger and places it within his mouth for a moment. "Instinct?" supplies the Brazilian, posing more of a question than a definite answer. 

  


"Instinct told you to pounce on me?" Marc snickers his amusement, hiding his broad grin behind a hand, cheeks flushing darkly. There was something so amusing about a jungle boy pouncing him based solely on 'animal instinct,' so what if it was wrong of him to laugh at.

  


"You bit me," flippantly replies the raven with a narrow of his eyes. It's all playful honestly, teasing even, as he sucks on his bottom lip in an attempt to seal the bite. "That isn't instinct?"

  


"You little—" But Marc doesn't get to finish his sentence, not when the sound of rustling leaves has his attention captured. 

  


The rustling and crunching continues on a moment longer until the bulky form of a gorilla comes into view. Her fur is as thick as ever, wiry too, and the German had just noticed the reddish-brown color that the top of her head possesses. For once he doesn't faint at the presence of the animal, though he can't honestly say he sees her as that anymore, not when she had the demeanor of a human; relatable, his brain supplies a moment later.

  


Rafael brightens considerably at the sight of her as he scrambles to his feet to bound across the wooden floor to reach her. Just before he does though, she crawls on her hands, pausing to sniff the air for an attentive period of time. She makes a barking sound, something akin to a human laugh, as if she found the situation—or just the potent scent itself—comical. Sensing that Marc was still a little weary about her presence, she settles on lingering by the wooden stumps next to the makeshift table, signing something enthusiastically to the Brazilian.

  


Apparently whatever it was didn't have the same effect on the Brazilian if the way he presses the heel of his palms into his eyes is any piece of evidence to go by. It's followed by a peeved groan, clearly distressing the boy, as he points to Marc then proceeds to mouth and explain what he was thinking with the use of his hands. Absently, Marc thinks that he should learn the language, that way he can also participate in these unspoken conversations without feeling like a complete outsider. 

  


Something about it was fascinating nevertheless so he couldn't form any complaints, not when Rafael is beckoning him over with a simple hand gesture. So he strolls over, smiling what he hopes is a warm smile to the gorilla, then glances at Rafael who looks more and more exasperated as the seconds tick on. 

  


" _Mother_ ," he practically hisses the word, much to the gorilla's pleasure, as he simultaneously signs his words to her. "Is trying to—to.." Once more he does that thing, tapping his forefinger and thumb together, before he wordlessly signs to the gorilla who offers a word. "Embarrass, yes—" He points to the gorilla in triumph: "Trying to embarrass me." 

  


More perplexed than ever, the blond just wavers from foot to foot, still not certain what was going on. "I don't even know sign language, so that's kind of impossible." He smiles apologetically at the gorilla then glances at Rafael, "Is she talking about me?"

  


Rolling his eyes, the raven nods, signing what Marc was speaking to her before turning back to stare at the blond with a firm purse of his lips. "She can smell us, _this_ —" And Marc really wishes he wouldn't brush his hands over the crotch of the material covering himself like that. "It's strong, that's what she said." 

  


So this is what it was like getting caught in the middle of foreplay while in the jungle then. By none other than a gorilla, who was his lover's—could he even consider him that?—adopted mother, which makes it all the more bizarre and uncomfortable and just paralyzing. He coughs awkwardly, scratching tentatively at the back of his head, deciding to explore the hut in an attempt to relieve the intense gaze of the gorilla from his form.

  


There are a variety of things strewn here and there, little things that are familiar, like shiny watches and the like that could only be found outside of the jungle and definitely not here in the rain-forest. Marc toys with one absently, glancing over his shoulder at Rafael, who's signing so fast that it looks like it pains his fingers. He juts a thumb in the direction of Marc, then shoots his hands upward into the sky, then turns them this way and that; it looks like he's throwing a tantrum, honestly, which is kind of adorable.

  


Once upon a time he had been in a similar situation back in Germany where he had, admittedly, snuck into his boyfriend at the time's house. Of course the duo had gotten caught half an hour into the hook-up session, which had created unwanted tension in their relationship, resulting in the break-up he knew to expect. He could practically hear the enraged tone of his ex's parents now, reprimanding Bernd about how disrespectful it was to have someone over past his curfew, that it was irresponsible and he should know better.

  


Lost and absorbed in thought, absently toying with the trinkets laying about, he doesn't even notice the sound of bare feet softly padding toward him. When he glances up, he finds Rafael standing behind him, gazing down at the tiny necklace held together by a worn string that Marc is currently holding. There's a glint within his eyes, pained, as he hesitantly retrieves the necklace and curls it tightly within his fist.

  


Glancing back at the vicinity he had came from, he finds the hut is once again empty, the wiry gorilla having left the two alone once more. "Is your mom done yelling at you?"

  


"Yelling? Why would she—...?" It's then that Rafael laughs, seemingly grasping the concept Marc was implying, shaking his head vehemently. "No, no she was happy. Making fun." But still, he keeps the necklace held tightly within his hand, though he loosens the fist considerably after he laughs once more.

  


Not missing the action, the blond ponders what that quaint treasure must mean to him, and decides that he would ask later on that day. Instead he busies himself with fiddling with other random gadgets, like a massive, yellowed tooth he had come across, turning it this way and that as he scrutinizes it. "She wasn't mad then?"

  


Hands are unfurling the fist then, reaching around him to place the necklace into a tiny, broken jar on the side. "No, never." denies the Brazilian as he shifts until he's leaning back against the makeshift table, crossing his arms over his chest, eyeing Marc curiously. "Mother is happy if I'm happy, says I found m—.." There's that timidness again, the boy nibbling his lower lip. "My mate, you. I found you, she is happy."

  


Silently, the blond peers down at the boy, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his lips. "We just met," steadily begins the German as he curves a finger along the chipped tooth on the table. "Mother's intuition?"

  


"Intui-what?" Rafael tries the word on his lips, unsuccessfully at that, then purses his lips. "Mother's, they know."

  


Marc coins the Brazilian a look but then finds something else to occupy his hands with; it's a lot better than running the tips of his fingers along the firm, muscular abdomen the latter has. "Well, yeah, that's what intui—Never mind." Then his brows furrow with the more he thinks about it. "Did I agree to be your—your.. Thing..?"

  


"My thing?" repeats the raven with a quirked brow as he hurriedly leans forward to pluck a dart away from Marc, tossing it halfheartedly to the side. " _Poison_ ," he warns with a scolding hiss, clicking his tongue.

  


"Mate," Marc states, the word strange on his tongue, face contorting at the usage. "I mean, your _mate_."

  


As if recalling the kisses the two had shared, Rafael allows his fingers to touch his lips, allowing them to linger there as he stares off into space and is absorbed in thought. For a moment he doesn't speak then, with fingers still hovering on his mouth, glances up to meet Marc's imploring gaze. "Aren't we?"

  


Marc isn't certain how jungle etiquette works in regards to dating because in the human-world, they would still be in the stage of courting, with dates in between to strengthen their connection as well as increasing each other's knowledge on the basics about themselves. But, given they were in the middle of nowhere in Brazil with Rafael having been raised by a troop of gorillas, he can safely say that things were definitely more complicated than he had originally thought.

  


But the blond, who is rapidly finding himself more attached to the boy the more those beautiful eyes stare pleadingly into his own, knows that he was incapable of hurting him in any fashion. So he does what he does best and adapts to the situation, smile bright and genuine, eyes alight with mirth. What could possibly go wrong with courting a jungle boy raised by gorillas? After-all, it could be worse, he could have been raised by unforgiving wolves or the fierce panther he had just barely escaped.

  


Fingers itching to touch, to reassure, the blond instinctively reaches out toward Rafael's hand and takes it within his own. Offering it a warm squeeze, Marc nods affirmatively, threading their fingers together and brushing the the pad of his thumb along the smooth skin of the latter's hand. "I don't know how dating in the jungle works," admits the blond skeptically, to which Rafael's countenance glows at: "but I can do this." 

  


Looking pleased with the revelation, Rafael grins broadly, snatching his hand out of Marc's to surge forward and tug him into an enthusiastic embrace. He buries the side of his face within the crook of the blond's neck, inhaling his scent deeply, noting that nothing compared to the German's smell. Not even the freshly picked berries he would gather from throughout the expanse of the jungle nor as delightful as the sap he managed to collect from trees.

  


"I can stay," mumbles Marc a deliberate moment later as he returns the snug embrace. "but I have to tell the others that I'm okay, otherwise they'll come looking for me." Temporarily the soft breaths at his throat hitch, lashes fluttering anxiously against his neck, can feel the steady clench and release of his jaw. "I'll come back, that I can promise, but this is something I have to do."

  


Rafael withdraws from the hug and sits with his legs crossed neatly, placing his hands within his lap, gaze focused on the indents within the wood. "I do not understand why," begins the Brazilian, shoulders hunching forward in defeat: "you are happy, yes?"

  


"No, don't do that." Marc reaches out a hand and places it upon Rafael's shoulder, the raven shrugging it off a moment later, before the blond retracts it to instead scratch nervously at his cheek. "If someone tells my dad I'm missing, who knows what he'll do, so I need to do this."

  


"Can I go with you?" inquires the Brazilian, dark eyes hopeful, as he weakly lifts his head to stare pleadingly into conflicted blue eyes. 

  


Nervous laughter bubbles from the German's throat as he ponders the idea and what reaction he would receive. This earns himself a perplexed scrunch of Rafael's face, a sight that makes his laughter seize, instead a deep frown forming upon his mouth. "No, sorry." An apologetic smile inches onto Marc's face, fiddling with his own fingers, glancing about the hut for something to distract himself with. "It's something I should do alone and it'd be easier to explain that way."

  


"I don't—.." And he honestly looks lost for words, eyes glassy and sad. "What if you leave and do not come back?"

  


"I wouldn't leave," outwardly the blond winces an he hates himself for it: "I wouldn't, not without telling you first, because that would make me feel terrible." 

  


"Oh." It's then that realization seems to dawn on the Brazilian as he shifts beneath Marc's gaze, brows crinkling his forehead as he furrows them, nodding as he breathlessly laughs. "You don't want them to see me." 

  


This was a discussion that Marc honestly hadn't desired to approach so sudden and soon, especially when he was still in the planning stages of, well—well whatever this thing was. There wasn't a decent way to properly explain the situation at hand to his co-workers as of yet and had intended to be as vague as possible while still explaining that he wasn't in harm's way nor potentially being held hostage by a local or aboriginal. 

  


Yet here he is stuck with facing the offended look that crosses Rafael's countenance when he fails to formulate a response right away. But honestly, what could he say other than be entirely honest with the beautiful man before him? There were no customs at home that could have prepared him for his current situation and he wasn't equipped to deal with this, not now, not when he hadn't had ample time to even contemplate just what he was planning to do.

  


So he continues to silently struggle, all the while Rafael is clambering to his feet, so he allows his body to run on autopilot to do whatever it so pleased. Which results in him crawling to his feet abruptly and making a grab for Rafael's hand, to which the Brazilian easily shakes off, which eventually leads to the blond crowding him and pressing him into the nearest surface which just so happens to be the quaint wooden table.

  


Startled, back pressed flush against Marc's, the brunet struggles for a moment before stilling and bending lithely over the surface of the table. Hands grip onto the edge, hips pressing back against the blond's. Marc instinctively latches onto his waist, stilling the movements, hands holding onto him tightly. "You can come with me, Rafa, I just—I need you to understand, alright." 

  


And really, his hands are holding onto barely enough material to properly support Rafael's waist, the cloth there sliding dangerously low. Half his hands are gripping onto bare skin while the other is brushing against rough material. When he glances down, much to his pleasure, he finds the cloth rising up the expanse of tawny thighs to reveal the plump lower half of his ass.

  


And if he licks his lips, no one's there to witness it, to see that he does. Rafael makes a soft, inquisitive noise at the back of his throat as he presses back against Marc's hips once more, hips swerving this way and that against his clothed crotch, the blond feeling his pulse race against his eardrums as well as his cock stirring within his trousers.

  


"What am I doing..?" breathes the blond into the air as he abruptly takes a few, measured takes backward and instantly regrets the action—except not really, not when the angle it gives him exposes a firm and round bottom to his gaze. "Oh God." 

  


Hesitantly rising from his position on the table, Rafael straightens, smoothing out the material of the cloth around his waist as he does so. Despite the initial disgruntled reaction to Marc's words, he seems relatively pleased with himself, grinning from ear-to-ear as he stalks closer toward the blond to press an unexpected kiss to his thin, pink lips.

  


It takes him by surprise, much like everything the Brazilian does, but it doesn't bother him in the least. It only lasts a second, however, before the brunet as heading toward the side of the hut where the vines are located. "Let's go meet your troop," enthusiastically suggests the raven, seeming to have a bounce in his step. 

  


Feeling a little disoriented by what had just occurred, the blond gives himself a moment to collect his thoughts, blinking owlishly before willing his legs into motion. "Yeah, yeah okay."

  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there'll be lots of temporarily unresolved sexual tension in this fic for a while, be forewarned D: 
> 
> <3 xx

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know if you liked it ? :p


End file.
